Lucky Number 7

Lucky Number 7

Chapter 1

Lucky Number 7 (age 16)

"Hey, Herm, can I borrow your potions notes?" Ron calls, already in my room despite the fact that our cram session isn't supposed to begin for another thirty minutes.

"Mmfpuffmmffmph!" I answer from the bathroom around a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Is that a yes?"

"Top folder!" I call. "It's black!"

"Thanks."

I exit the bathroom, hair tied into a ponytail, to find Ron going through the wrong folder. "Ronald Weasley!" I cry, pouncing forward to grab for it. "That's not my potions notes!"

"What is it?" he asks, easily keeping the offending document out of my reach by holding it over his head. "Names? Like a hit list?"

"No!" I snap, elbowing him in the ribs. "I'm not that petty, you stupid git."

"Then what is it?"

"None of your business."

"It is my business," Ron insists. "Especially if you don't want me to see it so badly. It must be something really good."

"Fine," I concede, plunking down in a chair, arms crossed over my chest. "Look at it. I don't care."

Ron sits down across from me with his prize, smile fading once he sees what it is. "Who's...Who's hot? Herm, what is this?"

"Just what it says, Ron," I say. "A list of all the boys I think are hot."

"Lockhart?" he fumes after seeing the first name on the list. "Lockhart?!? That flashy git? Herm, he's horrid!"

"Mm. Defense Against the Dark Arts lecture had never been so fun."

"Who else is on this silly thing?" Ron mutters, reading down. "Sirius?"

I smile. "I think it's the leather and the motorbike. You could learn a few things from him, Ron."

"Why would I want to?" he says. "He's old enough to be your father. Really, Herm, I'm ashamed..."

"Wait till you get to the next three names."

"Wait till you get to the next three names," he parrots in a horrid pretend-girl voice, eyes returning to the page. "Bill? Percy? Charlie? My own brothers? Why don't you just add Fred and George to the list and be done with it!"

"Fred and George are smashing but not quite my type."

"But my other brothers are?" Ron asks, fist clenching and face starting to turn the same shade as his hair.

I nod, smiling at him. "Oh, yes. Mix them all together and you'd have the perfect man."

"Mix them all together and you'd have the perfect man," he mimics again, attention back to the list. "Number 6 is Tom Riddle? Herm, he's evil!"

"What? Evil people can't be good looking? Where is that written, Ronald Weasley?"

"It's just...It's just...wrong!" He takes deep, gulping breaths to calm himself, looking like a fish gasping for air. "Why aren't I on the list?"

"Because you're not, Ron."

"Why not?" he asks, picking up a pencil to hand to me. "Go on then. Write me in."

"It doesn't work that way."

"Fine. I'll write me in," Ron says, writing a '7' and scribbing his name after Tom Riddle. "There. Lucky Number 7." He grins, looking immensely relieved and pleased with himself. "Let's study. I better do a bang up job on these exams or who knows what will happen."

"You'll pass," I say, sliding my 'who's hot' notebook back to my side of the table. "You always do."